TW: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SUICIDAL IDEATION

Years ago, if someone were to tell me that it were at all possible for it to rain for two years straight, I would have called them insane. Yet, these past two years have proven such a thought to be more than just a fanciful concept. Ever since I lost my fiancé Liam, the most precious presence that I've had the honor of loving, it feels as though I've been assigned my own personal rain cloud. Life, it seems, now comes in tumultuous waves. There are moments when emotions surge, drowning me with such an intensity that it becomes almost unbearable. Then, in sharp contrast, there are sudden interludes of profound numbness, reminding me of the incomplete state I've been reduced to. Despite the occasional glimpses of happiness that manage to seep through, my rain cloud continues to tower above, casting its shadow. I suppose that's one of the inevitable consequences of losing one's soulmate. You find yourself thrown to the wolves, forced to navigate life's entangled labyrinth anew, in search of a place where you can once again come to belong. Even so, I find myself grounded by the memories of what once was and what could have been. For that, I have come to harbor resentment toward the circumstances that led me to become this new version of myself both mentally and physically.

In the past, I felt ashamed of my natural features, particularly my hair that often sat in messy loose curls atop my head. A common criticism was that they drew unwanted attention to not only to myself but also to my prestigious paternal family. I was often told that they made me look like "some man from the wild". Alas, I learned that my hair was never that bad at all and wavy hair was very normal. But I was so desperate to conform that I went to great lengths to resemble my father's appearance, spending countless hours straightening my hair in search of any hint of a ringlet. Eventually, I realized that I owed no one such effort and embarked on my own rebellion. It was a defiance against those who judged me and a commitment to staying true to myself and the person I longed to be. Embracing my untamed curls, I let them reclaim their rightful place on my head, even dyeing them black to replace the natural ash-brown color that resembled my father's.

Initially, the idea of piercings intimidated me as well, for I feared the pain they might cause. That and Liam would tell me some of his own horror stories, however, I discovered an unexpected therapeutic quality in the slight prick of the needle, thus beginning a new journey. I began my piercing exoploratiom with simple lobe earrings, utilizing the unused jewelry left behind by my ex-fiancé once my healing process concluded. Those small, silver studs with tiny diamonds in the center soon became my good luck charms. Encouraged by this, I ventured into other parts of my ears, exploring my helix and cartilage. Eventually, I extended my piercings to my face, adorning my right eyebrow, bottom lip, and tongue. Most recently, I took the plunge and had my belly button pierced. Although it was the most painful piercing yet, the sensation was almost euphoric once the adrenaline subsided.

This need for an exhilarating rush could be seen as a form of addiction, but it helps me escape. Yes, I am fully aware that my father would be outraged if he saw me in my current state. He might even call one of his infamous many family meetings, and some members of his family might even go as far as to blame my mother for being a "bad influence" when in reality she has been the driving force behind my accomplishments. Without her, my former school, Mitsuhashi University's Onsen Group wouldn't have gained renown for its haunted house events in Japan. It was her artistic influence alone, not my father's or grandfather's, that ignited my passion. Unfortunately, my mother was used to being seen as an outcast, but being demonized by the family of her only child's father's had to have a much stronger sting. Thankfully, her career as a horror film director has brought her the love and respect she deserves in the entertainment industry. This is why I aim to keep the peace between all parties by staying out of the way. I love my mother, and unbeknownst to them, she is my ultimate role model. A free spirit, always ready to explore. She often says I saved her from a dark place, but little does she know, she saved me. If I had stayed with my father's family full-time, I would have longed for a means to an end much sooner.

Though I trust her with every secret, there are just some things that I cannot muster up the courage to admit to. During our our sometimes lengthy phone calls, I still struggle to share with her my true thoughts and feelings along with my mental health struggles. She does not know that I am at a battle with a dark cloud and wicked thoughts about myself on a daily basis and she would never know, for I am reluctant to burden her. I fear that if I do inform her of my current plans she would go into a panic and rightfully so. I could never hurt her during a time where she seems to be at her happiest. But what would I give to hug my mother, to cry in her chest as I did as a child. To hear that it would all be okay because mommy as there. I yearn for her comfort and yet I'm too afraid to verbalize it. Especially since she fixes everything, so maybe if I stopped being such a coward I could ask for advice on how to see the sun again.

In fact, while most of my memories seem to be divided up into choppy scenes, I can still remember the last time I both saw and felt the sun. It had been a few weeks since my graduation from my alma mater. I had hoped that my paternal family , here in Japan, would have exhausted their revelries before my return to London. My intentions for the trip were twofold: to celebrate my achievements with my maternal family and to embark on a lifelong journey with my beloved, Liam. Alas, fate intervened, as my father had other plans for the both of us. You see, the average rational adult, with a life of their own, would have declined any proposal that impeded upon their own personal affairs. But my father possessed such a way with words, a mastery of pity, that made it excruciatingly difficult to refuse without guilt weighing like heavy lead on your heart. He stated that had already informed guests of my presence at his upcoming literary award ceremonies and to miss these events would have brought immeasurable disgrace upon him or at least that's what he claimed.

Throughout my entire life, the importance of the Sumi reputation had been drilled into me, for my father is a renowned author from a long line of nobles. Thus, my entire existence with an average woman for a mother, remained a secret until my father had resolved matters with his family. After all, how could he even begin to explain that he fathered a child out of wedlock with not only a much younger exchange film student but a foreigner? Sometimes, especially now, I yearn to go back in time to persuade them to have rejected me, allowing me to reside with my mother forever instead. Or I would think about their reaction if I were born a girl. They were traditionalists, so a first born son was quite the achievement but a girl, a girl would be disposable to them.

June 30th...why did one of the evens have to fall on the 30th? June 30th was the day Liam and I had meticulously planned to see one another again. We had marked each passing day on our calendars, like children eagerly counting down the days until Christmas. But life has a way of rearing its ugly head, doesn't it? Persuaded by guilt, I was compelled to postpone my trip. Yet, Liam's hope and understanding remained unwavering, and he never once rejected the countless apologies I offered. I would call him, and he would always answer—until one day, he didn't. While I feared the worst, death was not amongst my immediate concerns. For years, I knew it loomed on the horizon for him, but I clung desperately to the chance of miracles and hope. The worst possible scenario, in my mind, was Liam's possible anger.

After all, days had passed since my intended arrival, and that night would have been our second chance and there I stood, consumed by my own self-foreboding, while my father reveled in his accolades. Parading me around as if I were some trophy, introducing me as his "real biggest accomplishment", but never his son. Liam would have had every damn right to be angry at my broken promises and the thought of that alone proved too much for me to take. Driven by desperation, after filling Liam's voicemail with words of love and promises followed by apologies, I reached out to his mother. The majority of the details of our conversation now blur in my memory. Of the conversation we had, the only thing that remains clear in my memory is the exact moment when I heard the words "Liam's gone" being uttered through a grief-stricken voice.

The sharp words that Liam's mother spoke to me felt like a punch to my gut, and I was propelled by an instinctual need to be closer to Liam and farther away from my father whose stubbornness persisted even as I tried to exit the door. Even through my anguish he proceeded to berate me for attempting to leave the ceremony early. After years of being the picture perfect son, after graduating first in the class of a university of HIS choosing, after every little thing I did to bring pride to the family name, I wasn't offered even a crumb of comfort. None of that mattered when he felt scathed. His eyes remained cold and hard, and his voice dripped with disdain.

"You're leaving so early? How typical of you," he sneered. "Always thinking of yourself, never considering anyone else! Just like your mother!"

Momentarily, I was stunned. How could he be so heartless? Especially to their only child who tried so hard to do everything right. Didn't he understand what I was going through? Where was the humility he showed in the media? Why couldn't I get that empathy from him? As I looked back into his stone face, I realized that he didn't care at all. He had never cared. For years, I had been living my life for him. I had worked hard, done well in school, and followed all of the Sumi family's rules until even they grew impressed by me. But no matter what I did, it was never going to be enough for the great Ryouichi Sumi. He would always found something to criticize, some flaw to point out and dwell on, but never acknowledging his own. And in that moment, as I stood there, tears streaming down my face, I realized that I didn't need his approval for shit. My voice rose in anger, and I yelled at him until my own ears began to ring. I have no recollection of what I said, but it made him step away from me with a wide-eyed look of fear, and that was all I needed.

It was a painful realization, but it would be the start of my liberation. I stormed away from him that night and never looked back. I found myself wandering aimlessly, without a single suitcase in tow. In my mind, I could see Liam's face, his warm smile, and the way his eyes would light up whenever he talked about us finally being together again. The thought of never seeing him again was too much to bear. It was as if I was wandering in a daze, with no destination in mind, and no sense of direction. Everything around me seemed to distort and fade away, and I was left alone with my thoughts and the pain in my heart. I just needed to be away from everything, and everyone that reminded me of the pain. I just needed him to be well. As I sprinted forward, my mind raced back to a nostalgic memory from our middle school days.

It was the looming towards the date of the school's field day event, an occasion that held both excitement and anticipation amongst students and their peers. While sports weren't my forte, Liam's enthusiasm for running had been infectious. We spent countless hours together, pushing ourselves to the limit until we'd collapse onto the soft blades of grass, panting for breath. I can still remember the way the sun felt on my skin, the sound of our sneakers pounding against the pavement, and the rush of adrenaline that coursed through my veins. However, our excitement was short-lived. Mere days before the event, I overheard the principal explain that Liam was battling through his ongoing treatment and was forced to be hospitalized. He would now be forced to miss the day he practiced so hard for.

Now, Liam's slot in the race would open, waiting to be claimed. Without a moment's hesitation, I stepped forward, seizing that number as my own. If anyone were to represent it, it had to be the person who cherished him most. I was given the number 30, a number that would become OUR lucky number. As I ran, I could feel Liam running beside me, pushing me forward. The wind whipped past my face, and my heart raced the fastest it ever did in my chest. I could feel the activity slowly take its toll on my body, but I refused to give up. I could only push myself harder, faster, determined to make my best friend proud. As I crossed the finish line, I felt a sense of triumph wash over me. Liam may not have been there in person, but his spirit was with me every step of the way.

The numbered shirt seemed to have given me an indescribable power or perhaps it was the power of love that triggered a large surge of adrenaline, but I found a strength I never knew I possessed. With determination remaining etched onto my face, I broke through the finish line, the red ribbon tearing apart as I claimed victory. I was so happy, I couldn't wait to make it to Liam's hospital room. The moment I walked in, I vividly recall the radiant glow of his face upon seeing me. It was as if his entire face lit up, filling the space with an indescribable warmth. Clutched in my hands was the grand prize he had tirelessly strived for - an autographed guitar from one of his beloved artist. In that instant, my breath caught, and my heart raced, prompting my mother's laughter and gentle teasing about me being the Superman of the race. But deep down, I knew it was more than that. It was the realization of how much Liam's smile meant to me. In that moment, I silently pledged to myself that I would forever be dedicated to making him smile just like that, every single day, for as long as he'd allow me to.

But this time, as I ran, I knew that there was no grand smile to chase. The tightness in my chest wasn't a result of physical exertion, but rather a swirling maelstrom of emotions. It was a bittersweet realization that winning this race meant little without Liam by my side. The absence of his presence transformed the culmination of my efforts into a hollow triumph. Nothingness. This finish line harbored no red rope but planes, planes that would take me to my destined nightmare. And as I crossed the dreaded finish line, my body gave way, collapsing and gasping for air, as if echoing the depth of pain within my soul. I miraculously managed to board my flight and truthfully, I couldn't arrive fast enough. Every second, every hour, felt like an eternity, until I was confronted with the bitter truth in a frigid room.

Seeing him lying there killed me. The frigidity of his small hand mirrored the chill of the engagement ring I had bestowed upon him before departing for university. He never removed it, even in death. The room, that damned dreaded room, was sterile and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of Liam harbored. The monitors beeped rhythmically, a cruel reminder of the life that had been snuffed out too soon. As I stood there, tears still streaming down my face, I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. Liam was gone, and with him, he took my heart. There is no other pain like calling to your soulmate and never receiving an answer. During his funeral, a friend of ours spoke of Liam, saying, "To know him was to love him." I struggle to conceive a more accurate portrayal of my beloved. He exuded warmth, kindness, and an indescribable beauty that I had only witnessed in paintings of the ethereal.

It was as if he had a secret cache of sunshine that he willingly shared with everyone he encountered. I remember watching him perform his cheerful bedroom concerts and feeling like he was the only person in the world that mattered. His infectious laughs in-between performances served as little reminders that this was my person. This was the man that I was destined to marry. Then there were those quiet times, that I would catch him staring off into the distance, lost in thought. I would always ask him what he was thinking about, and he would reply with a smile, "The universe and touching the stars." I never quite understood his fascination with them, but it didn't matter. His presence was enough to make everything make sense. If he wanted the stars, I would do my best to bring him the entire galaxy. He had me in my entirety.

From the moment we met, I believe we both sensed the significance of our paths crossing. So yes, to know him was to love him, but for me, to lose him was to have the world crumble beneath my feet. When the love of my life departed this world, he took the old Sumi Keiichi with him—an individual whom no one else should ever get the courtesy of meeting because he belonged to the departed. The soul of my former being, too, roams the waters of Liam's serene mausoleum that sits on their family's Memorial Lake. The lake is looks like a world found in a fantasy book, surrounded by lush verdant trees with birds that sing the songs of angels. The surrounding water is crystal clear, and the sun's rays dance across its surface, casting a golden glow on everything around it but it always seems to always shine brighter on my lover's tomb. Inside a sunflower adorned marble building, my lover's body rests in an eternal slumber. I have come to find solace in the fact that my love rests in such a regal place like the prince he was, surrounded by dozens of his favorite flowers.

After the funeral, Liam's mother presented me with a chest, adorned with a lock and key. Engraved on the wooden surface was our number. It contained a treasure trove of handwritten letters, his cherished jewelry, old photographs, and, most dear to me, his phone—a time capsule of sorts. I would be too ashamed to admit the countless times I've listened to his voice recordings, as he read excerpts from my favorite novels or revisited our past conversations. Even through the oppressive cloud that hovers over me declares its stagnation, whenever I immerse myself in our nostalgia, a ray of his light manages to pierce through and it's all thanks to him. Although I have sifted through every item in the chest, I find myself unable to open the last two letters he left behind. One bears the words "Until we meet again, my love," written in his astonishingly perfect cursive script. The other is titled, "To the luckiest person in the world, blessed with the love of Keiichi." For obvious reasons, I am certain that neither will ever be read.

Firstly, I am far too stubborn to officially say my goodbyes to someone like him. Secondly, I am convinced that there will never be another soul to whom I could offer the tiniest fraction of the love I once gave to Liam. It is a fact I have come to accept and others will too. He would constantly urge me to move on and embrace a new chapter of my life filled with a never-ending love. He'd say that it would be a crime to hinder a love like the one I bestowed onto him, yet that was precisely the point. When you love someone the way I loved him, you want to preserve it and save it exclusively for said person. That is why, after many months of contemplation, I have decided that this world was no longer made for me, for what is a world when your better half is missing? The world feels like a completed puzzle and I am a stray piece from a completely different one. Soon, I will be whole again, able to prove my love and faithfulness once more to him.

Tonight, something extraordinary awaits me. On the night of Tanabata, the festival of the stars, I too will behold the stars like never before. I can't help but to wonder if Liam will be there to welcome me into our own heaven. For now, I must push through the day and take in all the life I can before my impending departure. Blessed stars, may I have three wishes granted tonight? May I explore the stars with Liam for an eternity? Can you mend the hearts of both my mother and my best friend Misaki, granting me forgiveness for my sudden departure from their world? Lastly, shall you fill the void in my heart until I am able to no longer feel its presence ? That is all I ask of you.